~ tolbert's poetry

Monthly Archives: March 2018

wordless, quiet they sat throughout the morning watching waves coming in going out silence formed like white caps flattened on silken sands sliding back and forth like sweaty bodies in an erotic movie scene they labored in spent memories as if giving birth to times before yesterday forgotten in some lead-lined vault left to wilt woefully in regret his stop-watch was a gift from her her knitting needle, from him both for days such as this when waves were as predictable as her next slip stitch his thumb could no longer push the stem to activate a never moving second hand her fingers too frail to pull her slip stitch through so wordless, quiet they sat throughout the morning watching waves coming in going out “it’s a nice day to enjoy you.” he finally said. “and you.” she agreed, dropping her needle. “and you.”

Like this:

as mornings grow colder i am reminded of a woman curled next to a steam vent in an effort to warm herself. a small tin cup like you might find in an army surplus store was positioned near her exposed face as the cold nipped away at her dignity. some faces are unforgettable. hers was one.

tin cup music

life’s story was etched on her face carved with pocket-knife memories rubbed in with grammar school erasers and colored like heavy wet fog on a stinson beach winter’s morning

smiles were kept tucked in her pocket until a coin rang out like handel’s messiah hitting the bottom of her tin cup a reminder of how far she had fallen in a life written like a fourteen-line sonnet

noise from darkened streets and shadowed corners became comforting street sounds as she curled in her coarse wool army blanket now clutched to her chin and pushed by her toes until she found sleep in her cocoon of warmth

then a little girl jumped on chalk-drawn squares skipped rope and laughed while running into the wind and peeked around corners in games of hide and seek oh, she chased her puppy and hugged her kitten in dreams constructed with yesterday’s pieces

awakened, she wondered when she last cried tears no longer fell easily and the gurgling complaints in her belly reminded her that morning erased dreams as easily as dreams erased the pain of living